Careless Whispers
by clynnranson
Summary: Vincent and Catherine's love will always be as beautiful as it was tragic. What if, though, things had been different? This is a modern day twist on their story, yet still filled with that spine-tingling, swoon-worthy romance that has captured our hearts
1. Her Lullaby

**Please read:**

I was born in 1987, so I did not discover _"Beauty and the Beast" _until just a few years ago. I adore the characters; instantly falling in love with them as I watched the series on my small little laptop. In no possible way could I ever replicate the magnificent and heart-wrenching magic of Vincent's and Catherine's journey…so I will not. What I am writing now is merely my tribute to the affection that so many fans have come to feel for these two factious lovers, but out of respect, I ask that those who read this acknowledge that it is not my intention to insult the beauty of them, but to only apply my own twists on their story.

The more I thought of Vincent and Catherine, the more my imagination began to wonder what so many fan's do: What if things had been different? Before I knew it, I was typing away random scenarios, and with what few I was happy with, created the beginnings of what I hope will be a good story. _**What if things had been different? **_This is a modern day twist of just that. My version of Catherine is, in most part, very different from the one we see in the series. I have worked hard to keep the integrity of her character in tact, and I will make sure that despite the differences, people will still be familiar with her, and love her all the same. Changing her character around is part of my idea of twists, turns, and differences.

I ask that you all keep an open mind, and remember that this is just a harmless fan fiction I wrote for fun, and I want those who read it to have fun as well. I do not own the characters…I only claim the concepts and the typing errors as my own.

_Thank you._

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**Careless Whispers**

**_A modern day Beauty and the Beast_**

Prologue**: **

_**Her Lullaby**_

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The air below was so humid; it felt as if the stone walls themselves were breathing ruggedly into the darkness. Steam slowly residing against the twisted, cracked floor caressed moisten pipes, and if not for daintily lit candles - there would be no light in this world whatsoever. It did not seem possible, but there was so much more to this place than cob-webbed tunnels, that seemed to lead into nothingness. The walls that seemed so alive at times, held many secrets. The pipes that were adorned with droplets of water knew of enchantments that no one of the world above could ever dream up. The candles, so petite and aged, flickered with excited little flames. This world held so many stories…and it knew of an enigma. It knew of his secret.

Everything for a moment was so quiet, save for the occasional tottering of foot steps. There was life, yes, but those who shared it underground were not near where he waited. In the heavy silence, his mind began to wander irrationally. Was this a mistake? Would she betray him; his family?…Would his family ever accept this imprudence. Was it, in fact, foolish? In all his years, nothing like this has ever happened. No one like her as ever entered his life…he had never felt anything remotely like this before. Was this even the right time? An echo, which sounded more like a dream, suddenly interrupted his restless thoughts.

Vincent's hand suddenly pressed against the wall besides him, as if feebly grasping at it would keep his knees from caving in. The haunting voice that crept up along the walls had caught him so off guard, that he had to push the sound of his beating heart out of his mind, just so that he could continue to hear it. With a wavering breath, Vincent peered into the darkness ahead of him, and when his mind became clear - he realized who the owner of the chilling voice belonged to. He closed his eyes slowly, and felt an immediate heat fill his chest. The walls themselves seemed to groan into submission as the song enveloped the tunnels. It circled around him, engulfing him in it's divine beauty, and sucked every ounce of strength from his body. Vincent knew his legs were shaking, a sensation that he never experienced before, but despite the urge to fall at whim he walked forward.

It was a lullaby.

There were no words to her song, and perhaps it was better so, because in no possible way could anything be more soothing and hypnotic than her harmonious callings. As Vincent walked to where he knew she would be, he could not imagine anything else in the world providing the same fleeting feeling as he experienced that moment…and then he saw her. Standing underneath a majestic ray of light, he saw her. His claws dug into the wall, and he found himself dumbfounded and frozen. The moonlight, which had always provided him with splendor, bathed her in an ivory shine. Her golden hair, which hung in loose curls down her back, appeared as white as the dress she wore. Vincent watched the gauzy trails of lace flutter out of it effortlessly. The opening above her slowly shed particles of dust, which appeared almost as glitter that whirled around her. Her arms, long and slender, remained outstretched as she spun on the tip of her shoe; slowly…as if she was a precious angel, dancing inside a music box.

She continued to sing; caught in her own daydream. She had no idea she had gripped Vincent in such a shocking halt. He wanted to close his eyes, feeling unworthy to gaze upon such an angelic woman, yet he could not. She was just innocently waiting for him, singing and twirling as so many girls do, yet…A silent and more inward groan seethed through him, and he leaned against the wall as he watched, and listened, to the beautiful cherub before him. Hypnotized by her, everything other than she became a blur to him…and his mind slowly began to wander back to the night where he first met her.

_Catherine…_

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Now, even though it is not directly implied in this chapter, I want to point out that my version of Catherine is much younger than she was in the series…and also, as part of the "modern day twist" altered her style. I admit I was influenced by Gaston Leroux's "Chrstine Daae" from "Phantom of the Opera" when I imagined her. I want Catherine to be young, so that the lessons she learns from Vincent could be interpreted differently. I plan on making several chapters, and things will become cleared as it continues.

For those of you who wish to know the lullaby I imagined Catherine to be singing, it is "A Princess" by Javier Navarrete. It is a very haunting and heart breaking melody, and I highly recommend you listen to it! You may do so at the following link, though I believe you must sign in first:

.com/artists/javier_navarrete/music/8aHHprY1/javier-navarrete-a-princess/

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any and all reviews, advice, story suggestions, etc! I plan on updating once a week, so long as fate allows. I only have a basic idea in mind here, so I am more than willing to take suggestions. The next chapter will be the "unofficial" start to the story, and explain how I see these two meeting, and what will eventually lead up to this Prologue. I apologize also for how short this was, I'll do better next time. _(I know, that's so twisted. I love it. SHA!)_


	2. Everything's Coming Up Roses

**_Careless Whispers  
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**_A modern day "Beauty and the Beast"._**

**Chapter One: Everything's Coming Up Roses.**

I do not claim any of these characters as my own. I only claim the concepts, revisions, and spelling errors as mine…and apologize for them immensely!

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It all started with coffee.

Well, a lack thereof anyway. Catherine never did well in the morning without her caffeine, and when she lost power in her apartment in the middle of the night, she awoke to find herself three hours late for work, and without a minute to spare for that sweet, life-saving "elixir" of hers. While tripping over her mackerel tabby numerous times, Catherine threw on an outfit, grabbed her purse, and ran out her door with a toothbrush still in her mouth. She ran down the narrow hallway towards the closest elevator, and mumbled out a messy "Good Morning!" to her neighbor Mr. Lindale, as he gathered his mail up outside his own door. The short, maroon-robe wearing, retired mechanic smiled broadly at the young girl before shaking his head and walking back inside his residence.

It was very rare for Catherine to be late. Being as young as she was, she had a lot to earn in her field of work…or at least what was slowly becoming a career. She did not come from the wealthiest family, so for the last three years she had done nothing but work full time with her father; as an assistant in his law firm. Only recently had she earned enough money, from the blood sweat and tears gathered from constant filing and typing, to pay for law school. Catherine had ambitions; goals and dreams…she was going places, and everybody knew it. Everybody, at the moment, also knew she was running late. She still had on a pair of fuzzy polar bear slippers as she climbed into her Honda.

A person could wonder why Catherine allowed herself to get so frazzled, over just a couple hours of lost time. Her father, after all, was good friends of one of the name partners…it was highly unlikely she would suffer any real consequences. She didn't even answer to anyone specifically- performing as more or less a gopher with various odd jobs and superiors. Even though it wasn't work worth bragging for, Catherine still held a sense of pride for what she did, and the seemingly perfect record she had. She knew she was going to do great things, it was just the city she had to prove herself to.

There was a lot of traffic, as the winter season brought even more buzz amongst the streets, and Catherine - who normally managed to keep herself mild tempered and patient - was very gradually being pushed over the edge by some nitwit on their cell phone. "Oh come ON, are you serious?? Get off your cell and _pay attention!-_" A muffled jingle interrupted her outburst. Catherine glanced to her left, and frowned as she saw her own cell phone lighting up from inside her purse. Yep, everybody was wondering where she was. If she answered, she ran the risk of hearing one of the many uptight employees barking at her for not showing up with _their _cups of coffee. For someone who had such a simple job, she not so humbly imagined the entire building going up in smoke in her absence. Lawyers would be clawing at windows, their faces half melted off, screaming for records and iced mocha-latta-frappy-dopey-innos at the top of their lungs…desks would be overturned and papers would be flying in every which direction. File cabinets would be ablaze in flames and the alarms would be squealing out mind-numbing sirens…and maybe The Incredible Hulk would crash through the walls and start to eat everybody.

_Whoa_.

Never before had Catherine realized the effect no coffee actually had on her brain.

She glanced once more at the oblivious woman in front of her, before reaching inside her bag and pulling out the purple colored phone.

"_Yes, _I'm late I know, I'm sorry! I realize I'm the only assistant in the entire sixty-story building that is willing to ACTUALLY travel through all sixty stories just to make sure everybody is prim and proper and oh so PERKY with their whole wheat bagels and what have you but GOD in all his infinite glory decided to toss in a very unpredictable thunder storm last night that cut ALL the power in my apartment while I slept and in true tradition of the optimist I am desperately trying to remain while living in this horribly chaotic city I am willing to ACCEPT reality and even FATE if you may and try and save any ounce of this day that I can!!" Catherine gasped for breath after finishing her run-on rambling. Did she even bother to look to see WHO was calling before she answered?

"_Damn. _Catherine, it's Joe…I didn't even realize you weren't here! I just figured you were busy behind the scenes as always….shame about your power, I guess your perfect record isn't so perfect anymore, eh? Yeah.. hey, since you're on the road still, can you stop somewhere and get me a whole grain muffin? I'm _starving_ to death!…Did I just sound like a chick? I meant a six pack with…tacos. Tacos make everything better."

Catherine's eyelids lowered slightly.

Today was going to be a long day.

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"It's going to snow tonight."

"You can tell that, can you?"

"Don't you smell the air? Every year, before the first snow, the world above becomes so still. The air is crisp, and the sky is gray…-"

"The trees?"

"Bare, of course."

"Ah…it never ceases to amaze me how time flows so differently down here." Jacob Wells shrugged slightly to himself, before turning his attention back to the paper in his hand. "Will you be venturing out this evening; snow and all?"

"As always, Father."

"May I ask what fascinates you with the world above?"

There was a moment of hesitation, before Vincent softly answered him.

"Fascination isn't the word I'd use to describe what drives me to venture into the unknown as I do…"

Jacob tilted his head in contemplation, before finally catching the gaze of his "son". With a warm and kindled smile, he lent a tender hand onto his shoulder. "You don't even know, do you?"

"It feels needed…I cannot explain it."

"Some day, my son, you'll be able to. Everyone in life is needed, for all kinds of reasons; big and small."

Vincent's eyes, which always held a somber dreariness to them, held a similar tone as the sky he just described so plainly. A gentle soul; his father always knew how to enlighten goodness into others…always with affectionate yet wise words of advice. Vincent managed to grasp onto what little hope he had buried in his heart, and with an insubstantial sigh he nodded his head in acknowledgment.

Vincent, while grateful for his blessings, never felt he belonged - but to feel needed? He would hang onto that for as long as he was able. If going up into the dark and bitter world above, even with no evident result, gave him that fleeting feeling that something, _anything_, might reveal him to be of use…even if just for a _moment_; something small…it was enough to keep him going. It was enough to make him go out into the city during the first snow of the season.

"What do you keep going up there, exactly?"

Vincent jilted his head as his inward lament was interrupted. His father was acting peculiarly curious tonight, but it is not as though Vincent didn't breath off that mysterious air, that so often resulted in questions. He enjoyed talking to Jacob anyway…even if he wasn't always honest. Deep down, he knew his father was aware of the fact.

"I wait…I watch. Sometimes I travel, other times I do not. I never really have a plan…and I can't imagine what one would be if I gave it effort."

"It doesn't seem to be much at all; going up there as often as you do."

"The city, at night, can be an ugly place…but other times, the air is not so thick with pollution and grime. Sometimes the air can smell sweet, and warm…even on the coldest of nights. More often than not, I hear the sounds of sirens and people yelling…I hear cats screeching, and doors slamming…even glass breaking. There have been many times where I wonder why I go out at all, and then something remarkable happens. Perhaps it's the distant sounds of a homeless man playing a fiddle, or the sound of a young couple laughing…one time I saw a woman get out of a taxi with a child, and she picked her up and spun. When I heard the little girl laughing, I felt happy."

Father had an all too familiar smile on his face, as he listened to his son, and friend. "Why do you think you felt so happy then?"

Vincent took a moment to think, before he looked down at his hands. He paid particular attention to the sharp claws, and how the candlelight made them glow just slightly. "Like I said, the city at night can be ugly…and yet it isn't. There is hope, and love all around…it is just hard to see. I've learned how to look for it, and in turn…" He trailed off, his voice turning quieter.

"In turn," his father continued for him, "You learned how to find hope in _yourself._"

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Catherine starred at her door pathetically. She had been doing so for a while now. Where had she gone wrong? Images of her day quickly flashed before her eyes, in a bundle of true and spirited aggravation. The elevators weren't working, of course, so she had to climb up thirteen flights of stairs just to get to the office. It was then that she realized she wasn't wearing shoes, but it was awfully nice of the big haired, big boobed, barbie doll lawyer to compliment her taste in over-sized, artic animal slippers. So then she had to go back to her car, and pull out the sneakers she wears to the gym, that matched oh so nicely with the wrinkled suit she wore. After burning ten times more calories than the first run, she made it to her desk successfully. She had a good hour of luck…or at least, an hour without any bad luck, before ironically a random fire drill was conducted. All of the partners, ADA's, and anyone above the secretary and paralegal food chain was warned about this, so they all managed to use the now _fixed _elevators that oh so miraculously came back to life. There was a nervous boy, fresh out of college, who was carrying three cups of hot tea in his hand. Why? Catherine will never know…she never cared to know, because she ending up wearing two of them on her skirt after he bumped into her.

Then she spent a good forty-five minutes standing out in the cold, with her associates, as the building was cleared. It was another hour before everyone managed to even get back to their places, and work. Joe, in all his _charming _grandeur, then proceeded to sly his way into asking her out on a date. When she bluntly refused, he went out to very "sympathetically" explain how necessary it was for a young girl like her to not be such a prude. Nothing will convince a girl to admit "I'd hit it." like telling her she's too uptight and has no life. Oh, and then there was that e-mail from Fordham's University, stating that tuition cost would be raised by 14,000 dollars before she started her first semester, which meant either paying them now…or waiting six months and applying to be in a new term. With a slight sneer, she recalled the cheerful little smiley face attached at the end of the signature of that sadistic student affairs associate.

It took her thirty minutes extra to get home, because of traffic, and while waiting at a red light someone felt the need to "accidentally" throw a strawberry milkshake at her window, which by now is frozen to the glass. And now, after dragging herself to her apartment door, she was without her keys. No, they weren't in her purse…she dumped it out on the floor, with no avail. She knew where they were: on her desk. Catherine just stared at her door, as said, in an exhausted desperation - begging for mercy. Pan, her cat, meowed through it after sensing she was there. Distantly down the hall, she heard the radio of the cranky Ms. Swillow's old clock radio playing a song._"You'll be swell, you'll be great! Gonna have the whole world on a plate!"-_

Catherine never imagined she'd ever think murderous things about Ethel Murman.

There was a solution…it was bleak, and ridiculous, but so was hoping her door would magically break free out of sheer sympathy for her. There was a fire-escape along the building, and if followed, it would lead her right to her bedroom window. Was the window locked? With how frantic her morning had been, she had no idea. Was she really willing to climb up even more stairs to find out? Apparently so. Grabbing her purse and what little was left of her dignity, she ventured out into the cold to do just that. It had been snowing for a few hours, and the street had a very clean and gorgeous blanket of the white, powdery fluff covering every inch of it. Catherine normally would admire such rare and simple beauty, but right now she just wanted to crawl into bed and stay there for the next two days. She began to climb up the creaky stairs, having to cling onto the railing with every step, so that she wouldn't slip on the icy surface. She was actually doing fairly well, and after looking up to her window and seeing a breeze blow the curtains inward, her hopes began to rise a bit…until a rather unsettling sound caught her off guard.

It was the screeching of tires, and a black car ripped through the road - thrashing the soft snow in every which direction. Catherine stared in shock at the scene, and leaned over a bit to see what was going on. She imagined, in the split second, that some reckless driver lost control and was quickly heading towards disaster. She heard another screech, and then something slamming. Assuming it was the same car, she pulled out her cell phone and began to descend the fire escape - just in case. It could be nothing, or it could be something bad. She knew if she ever got into a car accident, even one of her own fault, she would want anyone willing to help to do so. Still wearing her sneakers and stained skirt, she quickly followed the tire marks as they lead her around the corner of the building. What she saw then, was not something too uncommon for the city, but _certainly _not something she was prepared for.

There were two cars…the second screech and slam was from another car hitting the one she initially followed. There were men, who were actually speaking low and calmly, even as they both aimed guns at each other. Catherine slowly took a step back, before quite literally spinning on her heel and making a break back for her building. She didn't realize it, but there were other people in the cars - yelling about a woman. Catherine was smart, you see, but to her shame her fear blocked out her common sense. She didn't run around to the other side of the building, but instead grabbed onto the fire escape that was so close, and frantically began to run up the steps - slipping and sliding on the ice that she had avoided so carefully minutes ago. If she had made a more rational decision, would she have avoided being caught? Nobody would ever know…but it is unlikely. The men, having expected her to continue running, got back into their cars and chased after her. One fairly large, and round man, got out of the car and grabbed the end of her coat - violently pulling her over the edge of the railing and back onto the snow covered pavement.

She screamed, out of terror, as the back of her head hit the ground hard. Her vision was blurred for a split second, before she was suddenly inside the vehicle. Whoever these men were, and for whatever reasons they were just threatening each other, did not matter at the time…_apparently_. Both cars drove off, following each other, and Catherine did not know what would happen to her…but she knew it wouldn't be good. Inside, she was sprawled out onto the laps of three other people - though a piece of tape, or what she assumed was tape, was slammed down onto her eyes and mouth. She thrashed about hysterically, but strong arms held her still. She whimpered, having images of being raped, beaten, and killed flash through her mind repeatedly. The men were yelling, but she did not know what they were saying. She didn't want to know - she made as much noise as she could, so that she wouldn't have to hear them plan out her demise. A sharp pain hit her jaw, and she realized she had been punch there, so that she would shut up. The blow nearly knocked her out cold, and she felt sticky fluid fill her mouth and tasted blood.

Not knowing how long they drove, or where they were, the car stopped. Catherine's numbed mind began to panic, and she only frenziedly shook her head from side to side. _Please don't kill me, I haven't seen your faces, I couldn't identify you if I tried. I'm nobody, just a secretary, please just let me go. Please just let me go! _Her anguished thoughts went unanswered as she was thrown out of the car, and into what felt like a mound of snow. Her jacket was then ripped off, and in fear of being violated, she thrashed her arms and kicked her legs. She felt a small gust of wind as her attacker threw the clothing aside, and pressed his foot painfully down onto her stomach to hold her still. She grabbed his leg -clawing at it, her feet digging into the ground in hopes she'd be able to stand up.

"_Don't use a gun! You bloody idiot, the sound will echo far enough and we aren't prepared for any of this!"_

It was easy to detect the thick British accent of the man who snapped from inside the car. Catherine sobbed through the tape over her mouth, and after vaguely hearing a hostile mumble, a sudden pain jabbed into her neck. Though she could not see, the second the knife pierced through her skin, she saw a flash of white…and then little spots of color. She did not hear the car driving off, and she did not try to remove the tape off her face, or move her body. Stunned to the core, she felt a rippling ache seethe through her tiny form, and felt the heat of blood bounce off her face. Her breaths became shallow, and she began to slip in and out of conscious. The snow beneath, and all around her, began to take its affect very quickly on her body - and what air she was breathing through her nose stung bitterly. She waited for her life to begin to flash before her eyes, but it never did. To this day, she cannot recall what exactly was going through her mind, as her neck bled out into the snow - seeping hot blood all around the ivory and sparkling ground. Snowflakes, that were still falling innocently from the sky, gathered lightly on the curls of her hair.

Then she felt warm. She heard breathing, and felt it on what parts of her face that were still exposed. Her body became weightless, and she imagined herself to be slowly floating out of it and towards the sky. A low rumble; almost like a growl, was heard in the back of her mind, which to her surprise sounded sad….yet it was comforting. The warmth was growing stronger, and she finally released herself to the mercy of what vicious reality, or fate, laid before her…even if it meant death.

"_Don't worry, little one. I will not leave you here in the cold."_

Distantly, the echoed voice of Ethel Merman continued to sing.

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Sha! First official chapter is done. I apologize if it wasn't long enough…I'm still getting acquainted with writing fanfics at all, and hopefully I'll get a good length down soon enough. Some of you might notice that the Catherine from the prologue seemed so different from the one portrayed here: There is a reason for that! I always loved how Vincent began to change Catherine for the better, and no less shall happen in my story. I hope you all enjoyed this, and thanks to those who are kind enough to leave reviews.


	3. Misplaced Tears

_**Careless Whispers**_

** A modern day "Beauty and the Beast".**

**Chapter 2****: Misplaced Tears**

I only claim the concepts and spelling/grammar mistakes as my own. I apologize for them, and hope they won't ruin the story for you! Thanks for reading, and for those kind enough to leave reviews.

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_Everything was dark, except for a single ray of light, that shone down upon a rose that rested on the ground; forlornly. She heard her own footsteps as she walked towards it - the sound echoing all around her. With a feeling of weightlessness she knelt down and picked up the flower; twirling it softly with her fingers. The rose was a soft yellow color, covered in lustrous droplets of water that Catherine saw her own reflection in. Her eyelids fluttered gently, and with a soft coo of admiration she lifted a finger to touch one of the silken petals. It was at that moment, that she heard a familiar and warming voice - it's tenderness washing over her like an angel's breath._

"_Don't worry, little one, I will not leave you here in the cold."_

She stirred softly, yet did not awaken. Vincent's eyelids lowered genuinely down at her as he watched her dream.

He had felt it in his heart; her pain. This was the first time in his life that he ever felt such an intense, inexplicable emotion. An indefinite force brought him there - his feet unknowingly leading him right to her as he traveled through Central Park. When he saw her lifeless little body, he nearly caved to the ground himself. Seeing the horrendous sight was enough to break any compassionate being's heart, but an unknown throbbing surged through his skin and plunged into his entire being. He did not understand it, nor try to, as he ripped his cloak off his back and cocooned her tiny form within it- carrying her off towards the underground realm - that was so much closer to them than any hospital. No one had seen him trek through the tunnels with her, and not even as he spent hours mending her wounds did anyone come seek him out, or wonder what he was doing. Perhaps this was best, as at the time he would not have any answers to their questions. One could easily accuse him of taking a dangerous risk of bringing an injured woman into his domain, but he did not care. Right now, he only wanted to help her heal.

She had lost a lot of blood, but whoever had so viciously attacked her did not bestow enough damage to take her life…Vincent was very grateful for this. He could not have fathomed what pain he'd feel if he had not found her in time, and luckily realized the only life-threatening wound was the gash in her neck, which was quickly stitched, cleaned, and wrapped in antibacterial gauze. As Vincent turned her head delicately to the side, to hold a cold cloth against a swollen spot on her scalp, he vacantly remembered how Mary taught him once how to stitch up injuries. When he was younger, and more careless, he more often than not required her healing hands to aid him with wounds of all kinds. If she could only see him now, nurturing so carefully to a complete stranger, he'd imagine she would be proud.

Catherine's fingers twitched slightly, and Vincent hesitated as he feared she would wake up. With a soft sigh, her face tilted closer to her pillow. A sudden twinge of sorrowfulness entered Vincent's heart at that moment, as he wondered what one would dream after such a horrible experience. He, despite his overwhelming apprehension, dared to graze his fingers ever so delicately over the top of her hand; his shoulders slumping at her cool, yet smooth skin. Once assured that the innocent gesture would not wake her, he cupped her palm within his much larger one - gazing somberly at her profile as he continued to hold the cloth to her head. There was no doubt in his mind that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and more than likely the most beautiful creature he'd ever see in his entire life.

The warmth from the fire next to them had dried her hair, and the long curls tauntingly graced Vincent's knuckles. Her eyelashes, which were a dark golden color, were long and had the remains of melted snowflakes still clinging onto their edges. Her lips were small, and a faint pink color was gradually coming to life within them as her body warmed up. Her skin seemed too pale for a young woman living in the city, yet Vincent seemed captivated by how it seemed to glow unnaturally within the dim lighting. Faintly, he could smell the scent of fresh snow still within her hair and on her clothes, and just a very light touch of jasmine - which, unknown to Vincent, was spilled onto her skirt by a clumsy co-worker that morning. His eyes softened as he saw the blue colored bruise along her jaw, and he once again lowered his head to her. Whatever had lead her to be abandoned so cruelly in the cold, it was so blindly obvious that she did not deserve such abuse. Vincent lamented to himself, in a subconscious daydream, that he would stop everything in his life, and _give _everything in his life up, if only to shield someone so frail from the malicious world he knew oh so very well himself.

He stayed with her that entire night; watching her dream in silence.

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The city was always full of loud noises, and the tire screeches and yelling that night were of no exception…nor of no surprise to old Mr. Lindale. He had always dreamed of retiring in the country, where he was raised, and not have to have such horrible distractions from his sleep. He had awoken, all too late for Catherine's sake, after the cars had drove off in haste - grunting in exhaustion as he sat up in bed and groggily glanced at his window. The thick and heavy curtains were drawn, hiding the bright orange glow of the street light, yet very distinctively sat the silhouette of a cat. At first Lindale thought nothing of it, as strays - like noise - was just part of the New York's charisma…though he strangely was able to recognize the soft meow that crept out from it's mouth.

"Pan?"

With groggy eyes, the old man crawled out of bed and reached towards his window - the little cat jumping down to his feet once he opened it. With a disapproving frown, he peered around outside and realized that Catherine must have left her window open. _Young people. _While shaking his head, he gently picked the tabby up, slipped on a pair of slippers, and shuffled out of his apartment and down the narrow hallway.

"What would possess you to come to my place, hm? I don't have any food for you…next time, try two windows down." Mr. Lindale smirked slightly, as he imagined the cat scaring the wits out of Ms. Swillow; the resident pain in his tucas. She was a horrible widow who took a devine pleasure in evoking her misery into others. Even as he crept by her door, he could smell her ash tray breath and sunflower oil scented perfume. He couldn't count how many times she would complain to him about anything and everything in life, including the young Miss Chandler, and then crawl back into her floral painted apartment -blasting old show tune records. If only Catherine had been a tad bit more responsible with her pet, he wouldn't have to walk down a long hallway in his pajamas at night, and thus have to remember such horrible memories. Still, as initially thought, the harmless kitten in his grasp could make Swillow's wig fly off in fright - but thinking such things was improper to do.

Deep down, he really didn't mind that last part too much.

Catherine didn't answer her door, and in aggravation his shaking old hands tried to turn the door knob. "What is she, still at work? Impossible." It was nearly two in the morning, and Mr. Lindale was no longer amused by his venture. Pan carelessly looked around while being held, and he could feel the vibrations of his purring. After exchanges glances between the cat and Catherine's door, he huffed out loud and turned back to his apartment. "You'll stay the night with me," he mumbled to the feline, "but don't get any ideas. Even grumpy old men don't have it in them to force kittens out into the snow, but that doesn't mean they aren't nasty yet."

Tomorrow he would make sure Catherine knew how much she owed him, for having both a heart, and sense of humor. He hoped whatever she was doing was important enough to leave him to take care of her pet.

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There were times her eyes would open dazedly, and she would mumble or make a soft noise under her breath, and Vincent would always be there - whispering comforting words to her, in hopes of preventing any hysterics. She would look at him, though his face would be safely hidden under a cloak, or by shadows in the room…but seconds later she would turn her face and fall once again into slumber. Two nights would pass before Catherine would completely gain consciousness. Having laid food out for her, Vincent remained hidden as she opened her eyes completely - his stomach hitting the floor in anxiety.

A ceiling, or what could resemble one, slowly came into focus. Catherine remained still, and inch by inch she gradually began to take in her surroundings. Her eyes did not move, but she could easily sense a crackling fire near her; it's warmth radiating against her skin. Whatever she was laying on was soft, and her fingers twitched against the fabric of a wool blanket, which would have provided her with the most pleasant of comforts…if reality had not hit her at that moment like a splash of icy water to the face. Within seconds images of the men who attacked her flashed through her mind, and she inhaled so sharply in her fear that she ended up choking, just slightly, on the salty tasting air around her. Vincent went to move towards her, but as she abruptly sat up he stopped - studying her face as he attempted to keep his voice calm, and collected.

"You're safe_, _I promise you-"

Catherine spun her head around, her hair bouncing wildly about, as Vincent spoke aloud. If not for the hasty panic that emerged from her, she would have recognized his voice easily - from both reality and her own dreams. She did not scream, or squeal, or even make any noise outside a timid whine - fumbling around awkwardly as she gathered up the blanket to her chin. Catherine tried to speak, or scream, but her body was trembling so hard, that the dull pain that still throbbed in her neck was all she could really concentrate on. Vincent, not knowing of any other option, moved forward to her. Of course, he did not take a second to think of what an image he must have forced onto her, even _if _he was securely hidden by his cloak…a very large "man" moving towards her in shadow, while wild images of murder was running across her petrified eyes, was the last thing she really needed to see. Only after one step into the light, Catherine found the strength she needed to squeal loudly and reach out in self defense…a pathetic display of defense, mind you, but when she grabbed that silver tray of food and flung it at his face, it was no less shocking to Vincent than a knife would have been. He reached an arm out and fumbled back, and despite his best efforts, an irritated and self-protective growl seethed through his teeth. As if that wasn't enough to make things worse, the hood of Vincent's cloak faltered slightly as he tried to get hot chicken broth out of his eyes. Catherine's mouth turned into a straight line as she watched the scene before her, and finally found the delayed scream once Vincent removed his hands from his face.

She tumbled off the couch she had been on, that Vincent had tucked her into so tenderly, and as she backed herself into a wall he fled; in both fear and sorrow. Catherine remained frozen, trying to slowly take in everything that just transpired in the last five seconds.

So it was official; she had to be dead. She had the worse day of her life, that started with a powerless alarm clock, and ended with a brutal murder…a brutal murder that only was a result of a candid concern for a fellow citizen of the fine city of New York. She obviously didn't go to heaven, which was a cherry for this ice cream sundae of hers, but instead woke up in a strange room on a couch, with a blanket, next to a fire, and with a lion-man…who she just flung chicken soup at. Catherine closed her eyes, for just a moment, and tried to gather her sanity. _Maybe I'm not dead. I could be in a coma right now. I could be hooked up to a machine with Joe blubbering over me, and rambling on with a nurse about how I'll never know the sheer pleasure of his company outside of work, while my father stands to the side with Pan in his hands. Oh, Pan…my poor kitten. I can just see his whiskered little face tilting at my lifeless form, and meowing sadly in unison with my father's whisperings of woes; about life being too short and unfair…as I remain in my coma, dreaming coma dreams about coma lion-men and soup._

She inhaled once more, her breath still shaking yet somewhat less hysterical as before, and slowly opened her eyes. Catherine was terrified, yet there was such a strange feeling in the room she was in…as quickly as her fear came, it seem to slowly leave her; only confusion remained. Was she really dreaming? She turned her head around and looked for the yellow rose, and did not see it. Instead, she saw her gym sneakers, placed thoughtfully next to each other and in front of the fire. If she wasn't dreaming, and if she wasn't in a coma…where was she? Did her attackers take her somewhere?- Catherine frowned at herself. _Of course they didn't…they left you to die._ Very gently, she raised her fingers to her neck, and her eyes widened as she felt the tenderly wrapped bandage around it. She might not have been deceased, after all, but she clearly remembered coming very close to it. A flashback of laying limp in the snow entered her head, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth. The men who did that to her would never be capable of mending the very injuries they caused.

Her head began to pound, and she once more let out a whimper of frustration. She saw a _beast_ of some kind, had she not? A vague memory of hitting her head made her suspect she was suffering from disillusions. For all she knew, she pondered in guilt, she could have just flung a silver plate at a completely innocent person. Catherine covered her face in her hands, before grunting into them and standing up; slowly. The blanket she had been tucked in minutes ago remained crumpled on the floor, and she wasted no time gathering it back up and hugging it to her chest. She did not see a door, but she timidly walked in the direction the "man" had ran off in - hoping it would lead her either to him, or somewhere that made sense. The further she walked from the fire, the colder the ground beneath her became. She glanced down at her feet -her toes curling as she saw runs and rips in her nylons. The ground was stone, and moist; just like the walls all around her. Giving a glance over her shoulder, to the room she was barely out of yet, she began to doubt if traveling far from it was a good decision or not. Ahead of her was a dark tunnel, and it's dark and dreary blackness held no comfort to her whatsoever.

Something inside her heart, that she did not understand, was trying to push her forward - to seek out the man who fled from her. Without knowing why, she felt a passionate urge to apologize; a blind sense of trust for the stranger that clogged her common sense. Yet the coldness was overwhelming, and she did not want to leave the warmth of the fireplace. Catherine reached her hand out to the nothingness before her, ever so lightly, before retreating back. Grasping the blanket around her shoulders, she kneeled down to the couch and rested her temple against it - watching out for a sign of any life ahead of her. The uncertainty and overwhelming rush of emotions drained her - and while she waited in ambiguity for him to return, misplaced tears filled her eyes.

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End file.
